Gran Turismo: The Story of Sam Black
by rjm324
Summary: Sam Black was always the type to get excited about the sport of racing, up to the point that he wished to participate himself. But when a series of events lead him to attract the attention of an eccentric Japanese race car driver, Sam goes on the adventure of a lifetime: a chance to race around the world and become the best racer around.
1. A New Beginning

"Just pick a car already," Sam's mother pressured. But he was having a difficult time figuring out which car he wanted as his first one. Even from the time he spent playing racing games as a kid, he never could choose the perfect first car. Now it was here, at this car lot, that he would finally pick his first real car on his sixteenth birthday. It was here, he hoped, that it would be the start of a promising career in racing. The only restriction, according to his mother, was a $30,000 budget that he was expected to adhere to.

"But mom," Sam replied, "there are so many of them, and you are giving me too little time to choose." She had given him just 10 minutes to find the car of his dreams, and in his defense, there truly was a wide variety of cars that he could pick from. Mustangs and Toyotas. Camaros and Jaguars. It truly was a paradise to Sam, if only he had a wide enough preference. His specialty was Classic American muscle cars, but there were only more modern varieties, so he had to rely on past gaming experiences to make an educated decision.

Firstly, he eliminated any Japanese cars, because even though they have great gas mileage, they aren't exactly known for speed. Next, he tried to ignore most modern American cars, but kept his eye on the Camaro and the Mustang, Finally, he tried to eliminate the overly expensive luxury cars in the lot. After taking all of that into account, he decided on the 2006 Ford Mustang, capable of speeds up to 150 mph.

"I want this one," Sam exclaimed to his mom. She frowned at the price tag of $25,000; while under her initial budget, she started trying to pressure him into a cheaper car like the Volkswagen Beetle. She argued that it was a great all-purpose car, yet Sam's mind was dead set on that Mustang. Eventually, she caved in and agreed on the Mustang.

After the purchase was made, Sam's first question was "Can I drive it home, mom?"

"No, Sam," she replied, "I think you should wait and take some more lessons…"

"NNNOOOOO!" Sam yelled. "I WANT TO RIDE IT NOW!" Sam was very persistent, but so was his mom. After about an hour of arguing, Sam's mom once again caved and allowed him to drive it STRAIGHT home, on the condition that he doesn't touch it for a month.

"Wait," Sam countered, "I didn't agree to that! I'll just wait."

"My mind is made up, Sam," she replied. "It seems clear that you are very excited to try it out. So, just drive it home, then hand me the keys on your way through the door."

After his constant moaning, Sam finally said "Fine!" He obviously wasn't happy, but at least he would have the opportunity to test out the power his new ride had. After saying goodbye to his mom, Sam hopped in his car and turned the key, hearing the engine roar to life. After listening to the car's roar for a full minute, he shifted to first gear and darted out of the dealership.

"Man, just listen to her purr," Sam said to himself, admiring his new car. He just couldn't get over how excited he was over it; he dreamed of this moment for years, but never realized how epic it would be. He was also bummed, however, since he could only drive it home, so he'll just make the most of it by taking the scenic route home.

As he neared the first stoplight on his route, he heard booming coming from behind him; before he could see what it was, the culprit pulled up right beside him: his biggest rival Max.

"Hey, punk," Max announced over his booming stereo. "Nice ride!"

"Thanks," Sam replied, "I just…"

"Didn't want it in black, Black?" Max snapped. Sam absolutely despised being called by his last name, especially by Max.

"Why don't you just shut up, you bully?"

"Bully? Can't think of more complex words, nerd?" That pushed Sam over the edge.

"THAT'S IT! How about a race to decide who is lamer? I know you can't refuse!"

Max only pondered this for a second. "You're on, geek!" Max proclaimed. "First one to the firehouse pays for gas?" Sam revved his engine as a response and rolled up his window to stop further communication. As the both of them revved up their cars in preparation, Max noticed the police car coming up behind them and backed out while he had a chance. As the light turned green, Sam bolted from his position at 60 mph, and the officer behind him began his pursuit, lights flashing and all. But, Sam's car was revving too loud for him to notice until…

"WEE, WOO, WEE, WOO!" the siren wailed. Sam bolted to see behind him the flashing, noisy police car chasing him.

"Aw, crap," Sam proclaimed, as he eased up and prepared to stop on the side of the road.

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"He did WHAT?!" Sam's mom yelled, talking to the "kind" police officer that stopped Sam. After he got stopped, he was immediately taken back to his mom's house, where he got his $350 speeding ticket and had his car impounded.

"After revving his engine at a red light," the police officer started, "he bolted on green and got up to about 100 mph before deciding to abide."

"Officer," Sam began, "you don't understand. I was arguing with a rival of mine, and then…"

"Just shut up," his mom scolded. She was really mad with him now. "This is EXACTLY what I was worried about. This is why I told you to get that Bug! But NOOOO!" The police officer cleared his throat.

"Um, Mrs. Black," the officer said. "You do know this is a serious offence, right?"

She replied, "Yes, officer."

"Well then," he continued, "I should inform you that in addition to the ticket and car impoundment, your son's license has been suspended indefinitely until he has been deemed acceptable to drive. Good day to you, ma'am." The officer handed her the ticket, went back to his car, and drove away. Sam didn't want to talk with his mom, but he did anyways.

"Mom," Sam started, "I know you might be a bit mad, but…"

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" She was ticked now. "First you tell me the Mustang was the better choice. Then you speeded, got the car impounded, and tried to LIE?" Then, she began to recompose himself.

"Samuel," She stated, "You are grounded, until you graduate." Sam wanted to burst at her like a volcano, but he knew it was pointless.

Instead, he just said, silently, "Yes, mom."


	2. Two Years Later

TWO YEARS LATER…

"I'm so proud of him," Sam's mom bragged as he saw him walk up to the stage for his high school diploma. For the both of them, they can't believe that two years had passed already. And to think that they had just had a falling out due to Sam's racing issues; as a matter of fact, since he got grounded, Sam pretty much gave up on his racing potential since he had no access to his car or video games since that fateful day.

After two years, Sam turned 18, became more pro-social, and never had another run-in with the police; while it made his mom happy, he was not happy, as his true passion was still cars and professional racing. Even without much practice, Sam still tells himself that he's still got it in him.

As he walked onto the stage, he shook hands with the principal, received his diploma, and walked back to his seat. Unfortunately, he was forced to sit next to Max, the one who he insists caused his two year hiatus behind the wheel.

"Hey," Max started. "Congratulations, geek wad." Sam remained silent.

"Hey," Max persisted. "Are you listening, nerd?" Again, Sam stayed quiet.

"Humph! You're no fun. What did I do?"

"Think about it, jerk." Sam snarled. Max remained silent for the rest of the ceremony.

After two hours, the ceremony was over, and Sam was taking pictures with people whom he might never see again; in his mind, though, he can't wait to spend an eternity away from the mayor of Jerk Mountain. After he said his goodbyes, Sam's mom ran up and hugged his son.

"Oh, honey," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Great, I guess," Sam replied. "I just miss being behind the wheel."

"I know, honey. But you still haven't earned your license back yet."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sam paused. "Let's just go home, mom. I'm exhausted." Sam then began his trek to his mom's minivan.

At home, Sam went through his usual routine: eat dinner, shower, brush his teeth, and sink his head into his soft, squishy pillow.

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At 7 in the morning, Sam finally woke up after his long, depressing evening yesterday. As he stretched, he noticed an envelope on his desk, next to his diploma. He ripped it open, and was shocked to find his old Mustang car keys and a handwritten note from his mom.

It read: "Dear Sam, I had to help grandma out for today. Go get your license and don't screw up twice! Kisses, Mom." Sam actually had to read the note several times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Then, it only took him a minute to get dressed, pounce out the front door, and hop in his car to go take his driving test again; it only took him half an hour to get his new license.

"Aww, YEAH!" Sam exclaimed to the world. "Looks like old Sam Black still has a future yet, everyone!" And with that, he went to a nearby race track to see if he could hold his own. He darted through the entrance, through the pits, and onto the track at 100 mph. He rounded the corners with such ease that to Sam, it was as if he was going straight the whole time.

"WHOO-HOOO!" He screamed to the world. For the first time in years, Sam actually felt alive. Then, almost like answering a call, another car darted onto the track, stopping at the finish line to wait for Sam. As Sam pulled up next to the unknown driver, he noticed something seemed familiar about this car; flame red, chromed wheels, booming stereo…

"Aloha, loser!" Max exclaimed. He should've known graduation wasn't the end of his encounters.

"YOU!" Sam yelled as he ran to Max's car. "I'M GONNA FREAKING **MURDER** YOU!" Despite the threat, Sam was able to retain his composed posture.

"Whoa, man! Can't we just leave the past in the past, buddy?"

"HELL, NO! You cost me years of doing what I love the most!"

"Are you kidding me? You're the one with the temper, which is why you NEVER noticed that officer behind you! LET IT GO!" But Sam just couldn't be led into believing what is, in fact, the hard truth.

"I've got a suggestion," Sam snarled. "How's about we have ourselves that race we never started? Loser admits they're lying." Max pondered this for a minute.

"OK, fine," Max agreed. "But I'll still beat you like I would've those few years ago." Now Sam was having trouble restraining himself.

"You better get ready, punk! Because it's about time I get my REVENGE!" As the two revved their engines, Sam was just thinking how awesome it will be to whoop Max at his own game, and how embarrassed he will feel.

"THREE!" Max started.

"TWO!" Sam continued.

"ONE!" Max added. Now they were just as pumped as ever to begin the race.

"GO!" They both finished.

His head bolted back into the headrest from the acceleration, Sam easily took an early lead ahead of Max, who didn't even release his parking brake. But by the time he did, Max was a full five seconds behind Sam, who continued to bolt like lighting. Yet inside, despite the power of the engine deafening him, Sam didn't seem to feel or notice that that he was speeding at around 130 mph; heck, even the various items that littered his floor remained where they were before he started.

"OHH, YEAH!" Sam yelled. "NOW **THIS** IS WHAT I CALL POWER!" He glanced out the window only to see the flame red blur that is Max zip past him. Now he was fast AND furious. Thinking quickly, he immediately drafted behind Max's speed demon so he could take advantage of the low wind resistance behind him. This helped a little, but Max still darted further away every second.

As the both of them exited turn two, the noise started to attract people from the nearby ghetto, who started to cheer on the exhilarating match-up; but neither Sam nor Max cared enough to notice, their minds hardwired on the race.

As Sam pulled up next to Max, he rolled down his window and yelled, "Smell you later, loser!" In an instant, Sam once again took the lead, but Max still had one more trick left up his sleeve. He flipped a switch that instantaneously boosted his speed, courtesy of his nitrous oxide tank. Like before, he took the lead from Sam, but the crowd began to boo at his cheap shot to get ahead. But Sam, too, had a trick to pull.

"Hey, Max," Sam yelled out his window. "This is for my suspension, you jerk." Although he wasn't completely caught up, he was just close enough to bump the back right hand corner of Max's car, nitrous still burning, which caused the both of them to go spiraling out of control as they entered turn four.

"BLAAAAAACK!" Max screamed, as his flaming red baby dashed onto the blanket of grass; his engine stalled, Max was left shaken up, defeated, and humiliated. Sam, however, managed to turn his steering wheel at just the right angle and time, which caused him to drift out of the turn and dash for the finish line, the clear winner of the race. But, knowing the police could arrive at any minute, he drove out of the track and back onto the road, abiding to the 35 mph speed limit as if nothing happened.

After parking at a nearby gas station, Sam let out a sigh of relief, happy he was able to not only beat Max at his own game, but that he got out without being noticed. At that instant, two patrol cars darted in the direction of where he just came from.

"Whew," Sam sighed. "I sure am glad I left when I did." Although he was aware he was talking to himself, he didn't care. In one day, he got his car back, received a new drivers license, and beat his biggest rival to the point that the police probably had to impound HIS car, just like Sam's car had two years prior. Satisfied with his victory and his pride intact, Sam restarted his car and headed back to his mom's house, worn out and pooped.

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Sam finally pulled up to his mom's house after half an hour of endless driving. He got out of the car, and as he went to open the garage door, he noticed the dent on his car's upper right hand corner.

"AHHHH," he yelled. The dent was the size of a golf ball, but the paint chips were definitely noticeable.

"How am I going to fix THIS?" he asked himself. He opened the garage door, pulled the car forward, and hastily slammed the door behind him. He then went to the old, rust colored toolbox his father left him and tried to find a hammer to pound out the dent. He found a shiny, stainless steel hammer, but he still needed some paint to cover the chips.

"SCREECH!" There was a noise coming from outside; when he looked, Sam nearly had a heart attack. It was his mom, pulling in after being gone all day.

"Oh, CRAP!" Sam exclaimed. He wasn't done yet, and he still hadn't buffed out the dent. So, he killed the lights and hid in the corner so he wouldn't get caught; besides, his mom would kill him if the car was damaged.

"SAAAAM," she called, "I'm HOME!" Sam was sweating bullets now, as his hide and seek skills were never very good to begin with. She was so close, in fact, that Sam could hear the thud of her shoes. The door began to creak eerily open, the light filling in the garage.

"SAAAAAAAM?" She called again. She noticed that the car was safely parked in the middle of the garage.

"I hate to admit it," she started, "but that really was a good choice for a car." She rubbed her hand against the hood, as if she owned the car for years. Sam was breathing heavily now, since she could find anyone very easily in her house. Yet, she started walking out as if she looked everywhere for him. But just as she was about to close the door, Sam quietly attempted to tiptoe past her; as a result, he wound up kicking a wrench.

"Oh no, oh no," Sam whispered to himself as he hurried to sneak inside the car; he knew he wasn't fast enough to get back to his hiding spot, so he rolled under the car in order to hide. He was sweating bullets once again, a nervous wreck. It didn't help that his mom's footsteps got louder as she grew closer. Fortunately for him, she only trekked to his past hiding spot to investigate; turning up nothing, she went back inside without finding him. Sam rolled out from under the car with a big grease stain on the back of his shirt.

"Oh, MAN!" He yelled. He cupped his hands over his mouth, hoping she wouldn't come back. She never came back, so he sighed in relief. He went to work trying to buff the ding out QUIETLY so his mom still wouldn't hear.

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"It's done!" Sam announced to the tools in the garage; he finally, after an hour of work, got the dent buffed and repainted, even though the metal is still bumpy from smashing. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do to keep his mom from finding out. As he exited the garage, his mom ran up to and hugged Sam.

"There you are!" she cried, concerned like he was missing for years, even though it was only a day.

"Of course I am," Sam replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I never leave you home alone," she replied back. "I couldn't feel responsible for anything that happens to…"

"MOOOM," Sam yelled. "I'm 18 and a high school graduate. I think I can handle myself just fine."

"Well, OK, but…" At that moment, a light knocking noise came from the front door. Sam walked towards the door and looked through the peephole to find a Ford GT speeding away. He wasted no time in opening the hardwood door, and looked in the direction the car darted away to; he had just missed it.

"Wow," Sam said in awe. "A Ford GT! That guy must be rich." As he turned around, he saw a blank envelope hanging on the door, with absolutely no distinguishing features.

"Maybe this is for me," Sam said to himself. Before he could open it, his mom snatched it from him.

"Let me check," she replied in response. "It could be a stalker, or a death threat, or…"

"You're being overprotective again, mom," Sam whined back.

"Sorry, sweetie," she apologized. She ripped open the dull white envelope only to find a fancy red and blue striped, folded piece of paper. She unfolded it and started to dart her eyes across the page. Sam could tell it was for him, because a: his mom doesn't have any friends that WRITE her anymore, and b: her expression was changing every five seconds as she kept reading.

After she finished, she was in stunned silence. "It…" she blurted. "It IS for you." She silently handed him the letter that shut Sam's mother up.

He began reading the surprisingly neat, handwritten letter with anxious eyes.

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"Dear Sam Black:

Hello. I am Kazunori Yamauchi, but you can call me Kaz. You might not know who I am, but I couldn't help but notice your little race from this afternoon. I mean, the way you were able to find the absolutely right way to spin your opponent out was amazing; but the way you recovered from that spinout was nothing short of a miracle. You have a gift, I can tell, for I myself am a champion racer from Japan who knows almost every facet of racing.

Now, I could go on forever about my background and my pure enjoyment of your little race, but I'll cut to the chase. I've been searching the back roads of the world, looking for a champion whose talents are going to waste. I believe you are the diamond in the rough I've been looking for. I would like for you to come out to Japan to join a new international racing league I'm forming called the Gran Turismo League; it's designed for aspiring racers, such as yourself, to someday move up to the biggest races of the world, like the 24 Hours at Le Mans.

Now, I know I'm asking for much, but I believe you are the great racer I've been looking for, I can feel it. If you want to join me, contact me and I'll gladly set up a flight to Japan in a heartbeat; if you don't, good luck trying to break through over there. I hope to hear from you soon.

Forever Yours,

Kazunori Yamauchi"

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Sam's hands were now shaking. How could this man, a famous racer from Japan, end up at his race with Max at just the right time for him to be impressed?

"You all right, Sammy?" his mom said, breaking the silence.

He nodded. "I think so." In reality, he didn't know what to think. The letter isn't a fake; it's too well written to be a fake. Was this famous racer really asking him to go to Japan to live out his dream of becoming a racer?

"I…" his mom started, but she quickly stopped herself. Obviously, this is what she wants for her son: to be happy and follow his dream.

"The choice is yours," she said. "I won't get in the way of your decision. Whatever you choose, I'll always love you."

Sam pondered this for only a minute. "I know what I want to do," Sam spoke with confidence.


	3. To Japan

Sam was just about ready to go; he had his bags packed, the letter was in his pocket, and all that was left to do was to tell his mom goodbye, who had streaks of black streaming down her face; she couldn't believe he was really leaving, and so soon.

Sam walked up to her. "I think that's it," he said. "I need to leave so that I can catch my plane." She grabbed her son, blubbering like a baby, and nearly hugged the life out of him.

"I… I…," she sniffled, "I'm going to miss you, son!"

"Me too, mom," Sam wheezed, struggling to escape her grip. "Now could you PLEASE let me go?' Reluctantly, she relaxed her grip as Sam gasped for air.

"Sorry, honey," she said. "I'm just worried I won't get to see you as often."

"Don't worry," he reassured her, "I'll Skype you when I get to Japan. Besides, my races will be worldwide, so I'll let you know when I'll be back home." His mom sniffled a little less now.

"Just don't forget, ok?" she asked. Sam patted her shoulder.

"As soon as I'm able to," Sam replied. After a final hug, Sam hopped in his car, started the engine, and began his long drive to the airport.

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Sam bolted out of his seat, looking at his surroundings. He had nearly forgotten that he was on the plane, and he bolted because of a patch of turbulence. In front of him was a couple, snoring. Behind him was a man that took up two seats, also sleeping. And to his right (he was in a window seat), there was Sara.

"Oh, good," she trilled, "you're up. I've been bored for hours. As I said earlier…" The truth was that Sam didn't care. It figured he'd get paired with the one person who no one can stand; he thought he was going to get a peaceful ride to Japan, but it was gradually turning into a nightmare.

"…don't you think?" Sara asked.

"What?" he asked, drowsily.

"I was just saying how war is completely unnecessary, and that we need to settle conflict peacefully. Don't you agree?"

_What an idiot,_ Sam thought. _I'm all for world peace, but this is literally the worst idea I've heard in my life._ But, of course, he couldn't tell her that.

Instead, he replied, "Yeah. I'm all for it."

"I'm glad you see things my way," she joyfully replied. "Well, now that you're listening, have you ever heard…"

"No, YOU listen," Sam snapped. "I sort of don't care. If you didn't notice, I'm a racecar driver, and those issues don't very much concern me."

"Really?" Sara asked. "That's so cool! What kind? Indy? NASCAR?" Sam stayed silent. He was done with this idiot of a woman. He dozed off around her rant about space travel.

When Sam finally did wake back up, Sara had vanished. He didn't care; she acted like a five-year-old. He decided to look out the window, but it was the same thing from the past six hours: ocean. He reached into his bag and pulled out his life changing letter. He asked again why he was so special. Why him? Was this guy insane? Could he really become the best?

"Attention all passengers," the pilot announced over the intercom, "we are beginning our descent into Tokyo, Japan. Please fasten your seatbelts, put your trays in the upright position, and thank you for flying with us." Again, Sam glanced out the window, but now an emerging, colorful skyline began to bloom out of the darkness.

_I made it,_ Sam thought to himself. _Now to figure out the truth._

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_What a place,_ Sam thought, acknowledging the pretty neon colors of Tokyo. It was unlike anywhere Sam had gone before; Tokyo was crowded to the brim with people, the large, colorful signs kept the city unnaturally bright, and it was also unnaturally loud.

"This place is HUGE!" Sam exclaimed. "How does anyone know where to go in this crazy place?" Of course, no one would be able to understand him, so he wouldn't get an answer anytime soon. He looked around the square, trying to find any transportation to the hotel.

Just then, someone was yelling at him in English. "Sam Black?" a man yelled. Sam turned his head and saw a tall, white man in casual attire walking towards him.

"That's me," Sam replied.

"I was sent by Yamauchi to retrieve you," the man added. He was obviously straining to find the right words.

"Thank you," Sam said to the man. "It would've taken me forever to find someone on my own."

"Oh, I know. It took me, uh, months to adapt." The man paused for a moment, looking around as if he was looking for something or someone.

"You ok?" Sam asked. The man turned back around.

"Of course sir. Let's go."

"Sounds good to me."

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The ride to the hotel was a quiet one. As the man drove the car through town, Sam was secluded in his thoughts, wondering what he would be doing next. However, he couldn't keep silent the whole time, so he tried to make small talk.

"What's your name?" Sam asked.

The man remained silent.

"Hey," Sam nudged, "try to be friendly, man."

"Paul," the man replied.

"Paul. That's a funny name."

Paul frowned. "You got a problem with it?"

"No, no. I just always thought that name was funny." Paul was not smiling, though.

"So…. How long have you been in Japan?"

"Umm, about two years.

"Do you know much Japanese?"

"Of course." Paul began to speak a sentence in Japanese as Sam was at a loss for words.

Wanting to change the topic, Sam asked, "Have you ever been in racing before?"

"Yes, but that was years ago."

"Were you any good?"

Paul paused. "I like you. You remind me of myself as a kid. I used to be so full of that enthusiasm people thought it was infectious." His excitement ended with a frown. "But, to answer your question, yes. I was absolutely unstoppable."

"Well, why'd you quit?"

"I just, lost my mojo. It wasn't as exciting as it used to be."

"Was it because you lost a lot?"

"No, no. Why would you get that idea?"

"Well, if someone loses their passion, its either you failed a lot or you never liked it at all."

Paul looked like he was trying to find the right words, but he just couldn't. To Sam, it was obvious that Paul had the passion, but he couldn't see why he'd give it up.

Finally, Paul said, "Yamauchi's office is coming up on your right."

Sam looked out of his window, spotting the lit up blue and red building coming up.

"Wow." Sam couldn't believe the elegance of the building. The colors just seemed to work well together.

"So, how much longer until we get to the hotel?"

"It's just around the corner."

Sam paused for a moment. "You know, I think we could grow to be good friends, Paul."

Paul smiled. "I think so, too, kid."


	4. Meeting with Yamauchi

Sam yawned. He couldn't believe how well he slept last night considering how awestruck and restless he felt. After arriving at the hotel, he just collapsed in bed without doing a thing. He didn't even let his mom know how he was. So, he booted up his laptop and started a Skype chat.

"Hello?" the computer asked.

"It's me, mom," Sam replied.

"Son! How's it going?"

"Alright," Sam replied again. "Tokyo alone was so much bigger than in the photos."

"I bet. Have you met anyone yet?"

"I think I'm making friends with the driver, Paul."

"Is he that man's driver?"

"I'm not sure, but he was sent by Yamauchi."

"Are you doing any driving today?"

"I think we're just meeting each other today, but we'll see."

"Oh, ok. Well…"

"Sam!" Paul yelled. "It's almost time to go. You ready?"

"Just a second," Sam replied to Paul before turning back to his mom. "That's Paul. It's time to go."

"Alright," she continued. "Go knock him dead!"

"Will do. Bye." He shut the laptop, grabbed his favorite leather jacket, and followed Paul out of the hotel room.

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"Nice jacket, Sam," Paul remarked.

"Thanks," Sam replied. "It was a gift from my mom."

"How nice of her."

"How close are you with Yamauchi?"

"I've been his driver for a year now, but we don't really talk about much."

"Driving?" Sam asked.

Paul smiled. "The topic does come up often, I won't lie. In fact, he and I have a real passion about outdoing each other."

"Sounds kind of childish."

"Heh. That's a good one."

Sam frowned and looked back out the window.

"Aww, come on," Paul whined. "Don't be like that." Sam remained speechless. Paul surrendered and returned to driving. The skyline, even during the day, managed to sparkle in many colors. Just as he was able to relax, however, he noticed Yamauchi's office coming up/

_Here we go,_ Sam thought. _Just a few minutes and my journey will finally begin._

"The office is coming up," Paul pointed out.

"I noticed," Sam replied. "Anything I should know before I go up there?"

"Show him the passion," Paul replied. "He loves seeing a fire that burns as bright as his own. And I know you have it in you."

"Thanks man," Sam replied back. The car pulled up into the parking garage, drove up the ramp, and pulled into a VIP spot on the second story.

"Any last pieces of advice?"

Paul glared into Sam's eyes. "Give him hell." Sam smiled, exited the car, and began walking towards the building. Now the true test can finally begin.

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After an eternity near the front desk, Sam was finally in the presence of Kazunori Yamauchi himself, something that he had never dreamed would happen. Even more, he was going to try to be recruited as one of the best racers in the world.

"Uhh," he droned. The anxiety he was feeling was unlike anything he ever experienced.

"Relax," the man spoke. The voice was distinctly monotone, so Sam assumed Kaz was using some kind of translator device; Sam wasn't too surprised, considering Japan's technological state.

"O-okay," Sam said as he recomposed himself. "M-my name is Sam Black, and I have come here to become a part of your new racing league, as your letter had stated."

Kaz nodded. "Alright," he responded. "As you may also know, I just so happened to see your little race as I was exploring America for new talent. How in the world did you learn to drive like that?"

"Well," Sam continued, "it was mostly from years of racing games, and I thought that I could attempt to drive as good as those collections of pixels on a television screen."

"I, personally, spent years watching others racing while I was younger," Kaz responded, "but I guess our ways of learning are fairly similar. Please continue."

"As I grew older, I started doing vast amounts of research on decades of cars and racing championships, learning the various ins and outs of the best and the worst." Sam then continued on and on about his vast knowledge, while Kaz, all the while, listened very attentively to be very sure he had picked the right guy to represent him.

After it was all said and done, Kaz and Sam just stood there in silence, almost like they were trying to take in the other's atmosphere. To Sam, it felt like an eternity of waiting for any sign of confirmation.

Instead of a straight answer, Kaz simply nodded. "I see," he responded. "Wait a few days for my response. Until then, enjoy your stay in Japan." He stood up and bowed. Sam did the same.

"Thank you for your consideration," Sam replied before turning his back and returning to the outside world.

GT GT GT GT GT

Sam remained silent as he entered Paul's car. Paul also said nothing as he pulled away from the building; neither obviously knew what the other was thinking, but after a while, Paul looked back to Sam with a smile on his face.

"So how was Kaz?" he asked.

"He was intimidating," Sam replied. "Do you think he likes me?"

Paul shrugged his shoulders. "How much did you tell him?"

"I might have divulged every little facet of knowledge I knew from all of racing history," Sam replied.

Paul faced the road again.

"Paul?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Paul replied. "I think he likes you."


	5. A Warm Up

"So why are we going to this so called 'Beginner's Course'?" Sam asked Paul as the limo drove along the quiet country roads.

"I've said this before," Paul started, "Mr. Yamauchi is interested in you, but he needs to be sure you truly have the skills he's looking for."

"But…"

"Just let it go. Think of this as a kind of qualifier before your first real race."

"Alright." Sam reluctantly quieted down during the remainder of the hour long drive. And he had to admit, the view of the Japanese countryside was breathtaking; it was, at the very least, substantially different from his home town. In fact, it was starting to dawn on him just how long it was since he left for Japan; sure, it was only a week, but it felt like an eternity had passed around him.

Finally, the limo pulled up to the track simply named Beginners Course; he might not have felt like a beginner, but he couldn't exactly say no to a refresher race either. However, one thing that did turn him off was the vehicles that occupied the pits: go-karts.

"Uhh, what the heck is this?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that 'beginners' have to race in go karts first," Paul admitted.

"Why?"

"The way Yamauchi puts it, one must master one of the toughest to control toys before moving up to the big guns."

"Say what?"

"Yeah, I don't get it either. Just do the race, and you should be fine.

"Fantastic." As much as he hated Yamauchi, he hated the thought of going home after coming so far more. After checking in, he was hurried to one of the karts, and after another few minutes, he was signaled to exit the pits, taking a warm up lap around the course before stopping in the twelfth place spot at the starting line.

Sam closed his eyes, and after cursing Yamauchi some more for the current conditions, began to focus his inner energy on this one race. There were sixteen karts, and only one can win: him. Still with his eyes closed, he pressed on the accelerator a few times, then the brake, then accelerator once more to get a feel for the kart's potential.

Suddenly a series of beeps began to sound in rapid succession, representing the countdown. Sam opened his eyes, staring at the stoplight as each light flashed its respective colors. As the final, green light shone, a foghorn sounded off, and the race was on. Because he was slightly unprepared, Sam fell to the back of the pack before tackling the first corner. That part was easy, what wasn't was maneuvering through the maze of karts that slowed to make it through in one piece.

With the first two turns behind him, Sam focused on a massive speed increase (with help from drafting, which was tough with the karts) to propel him into a higher position. It seemed to be working, because by the time he made it to the final two turns of the course to go, he had caught up with the front three karts with ease; however, in his haste, Sam lost control of his kart, coming to a halt in the grass. He wasn't stopped for long, as he pulled himself together and returned to the semi-oval track in seventh place. As lap two opened, two of the karts in front of him, desperately struggling for fourth place, got caught in each other's chassis, sending them into the grass as Sam had a moment ago.

Finally, the third and final lap began, with Sam attempting to draft behind the second place to no avail, until something unexpected happened: Sam glanced at the first place car and noticed he was on the apex. Seeing his chance, he hustled the second place kart by nearing his bumper mid turn, well aware of the risk he was taking. Then, as if by pure luck, the kart in front of him responded by red lining desperately to avoid a collision; in his haste, however, he inevitably caused the first place kart to panic, spinning uncontrollably like a clock.

And of course, Sam saw this opportunity by easing slightly and taking the outside part of the curve as the two karts that kept in front of him the whole race took to the grass in a tangled mess. Finally, after panning through the remaining turns, Sam blazed over the finish line in first place, the clear winner in what could only be described as, really, a battle of wits rather than a race.

After returning to the pits, Sam hurriedly escaped from what he described as a "screaming metal death trap" and just as hurriedly gulped down a whole bottle of water in under a minute. He then heard a clapping sound, which, as Sam saw, came from Yamauchi himself, who was escorted by Paul.

"Well done, kid," Paul congratulated. "That was actually pretty intense."

"Agreed," Yamauchi's monotonous translator uttered. "How was it?"

Sam shook his head violently. "Never. Again." The two men who towered over him just chuckled.

"C'mon, it wasn't that bad," Paul reassured.

"I-I-It felt like riding a windowless jet plane! And drafting was damn near impossible."

"That was the point," Yamauchi stated. "This was meant to show you how bad it could get."

"Well, congrats!" Sam shouted sarcastically. "I am now officially AFRAID of go karts!"

"Ha ha, good to hear," Yamauchi teased. "Well then, I have seen what I wanted to see."

"And?" Sam asked.

"I was convinced that you had the skills before this race," Yamauchi continued, "but what I saw from your come from behind finish has cemented it. I NEED you in my league. I assume you're still interested?" He offered his hand, which, after a moment of hesitation, was accepted by Sam.

"As crappy as the karts were," Sam started, "I'm not going to give up on my dream THAT easily. I'm in."

Yamauchi gave Sam a warm smile. "Then," he continued, "welcome to the world of Gran Turismo."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys. Welcome, as always, to the end of this chapter. Now if you follow me as an author (and why wouldn't you unless you're trying to hurt my feelings), you've probably noticed that I've updated all of my fanfics with a new chapter. This wasn't by chance, either, because this was the point; if you're following me, then you are now aware of my four other fanfic series, and I just wanted to make sure all of my series were updated to accommodate all my fans.<strong>

**Now unless you've been a long time follower of my stuff, you probably don't know why I bother continuing this fanfic. Two reasons for it. 1) It was the one that started my entire account and, in turn, all my other fanfics, and 2) to be the only actual user to update a Gran Turismo fanfic. Woo! But in all seriousness, I'm also trying to introduce the countless new fans to a fanfic that I, at one point, hoped would propel me to success, but that title went to FNAF: The Other Guards.**

**Anyways, that's enough of my soapboxing. I'll let you go.**

**Read on!**

**-rjm324**


	6. Sunday Cup, Race 1

A ringing sound echoed around the room. Sam twitched his eyes open, and looked around. He was in an ordinary hotel room, but nothing was exciting about that. Instead, he turned his focus onto the phone stationed on the desk next to him; once he was sure that was the source of the ringing, he picked it up.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Good morning, rookie," a voice, specifically Yamauchi's, replied. "Ready for your first real race?"

"Of course I am," Sam replied. He then yawned. "I just need to wake up, then I'll be all over it."

"Excellent," Yamauchi added. "I'll have Paul pick you up at around noon. Don't be late." Next thing he knew, Sam heard the sound of a click, and then hung up the phone himself.

_But knowing him, there's gotta be some sort of catch,_ he thought. He shrugged the thought off before preparing for the long journey head. He put on standard jeans, a faded red t-shirt, and a light black jacket, as well as packing everything up into his two suitcases.

An hour later, Sam was waiting outside for Paul, holding a cautiously optimistic attitude. How would this race go? Would something exciting happen? He didn't know, but that's what was making this experience all the more exciting. Finally, he was snapped out of his trance by a familiar black limo pulling up to the hotel. The window came down, and Sam was greeted by Paul's suave face.

"Don't just stand there," Paul said jokingly. "Get it."

"You've got it," Sam replied as he opened the passenger door and situated himself in the seat. After buckling up, Paul bolted away from the hotel, and proceeded to travel through a peaceful countryside road.

"You ready for this?" Paul asked.

"Of course!" Sam said enthusiastically. "THIS is what I travelled all this way for, and not what happened a few days ago."

Paul chuckled. "Yeah, I probably should've warned you about that."

"You think?" Sam replied sarcastically. He then turned his face to the window, peering at the quiet, empty fields. "How much longer will it take?"

"We're approaching the track now," Paul replied. "Hell, you could probably see it from here if you focused hard enough." Sam looked through the front windshield, and sure enough, he saw a large structure in the distance; even from this far out, he could tell that the track was large.

"So what is the name of it?"

"It's called the High Speed Ring. I think you'll like it."

GT GT GT GT GT

"Are you serious?" Sam asked angrily. At first he was excited about racing here; that is, until he saw the "gift" he was sent by Yamauchi for the event.

"I don't see what the problem is," Paul replied. "It's just a harmless Mini One. That's perfectly acceptable for this race."

"Why?" Sam asked once more. "I have a freaking Mustang! What's wrong with that?"

"Have you even seen the restrictions the Sunday Cup has?" Paul added. "You need a car with 440 PP or less, and I know for sure that Mustang of yours doesn't qualify."

"Seriously? This bites."

"Just be lucky you got this. It could've been much slower."

"Ugh, Fine!" Sam angrily replied. "Just tell Yamauchi that he's testing my patience." He then turned around and proceeded to get situated in the car.

Paul just waved back. "I'm on it, man. Knock 'em dead!" As agitated as he was, Sam still wanted to prove that his talent was genuine, and nothing was going to stop him. But at least he had this sign of comfort: it wasn't the racing kart. Reluctantly, he turned the key in the ignition, and the tiny little car was roared to life.

After a few moments, one of the officials motioned to all the participating racers to head to the track, and everyone, including Sam, obliged. It seems this would be a rolling start race, and it would give Sam some time to examine the track. His competition consisted of identical Mini Ones, Nissan Cubes, and all others of the sort, so he had nothing to worry. A few things he noted about the track was that the first half was designed so that a vehicle's high speeds could be utilized, which was simple enough for him; what did worry him was the s-turn that surely took careful maneuvering but, considering his vehicle, it wouldn't be any problem for him, especially since the last few turns also seemed like no problem.

With that in mind, he was completely prepared as he and the rest crossed the start line for the first time; finally, the race could begin. Although he only began in sixth place, despite the speed of his car, he managed to slowly pass up his competition. And by slow, by the time he exited the first high speed curve, he was only in fourth place.

"Ugh, I feel like I'm driving Miss Daisy right now," Sam exclaimed in his car. "Wait, did I just say that now? Damn it, Yamauchi."

_"Quit the chit chat,"_ a voice commented in an earpiece. _"Stay focused."_

"Err, right," Sam replied. Like before, he sped through the next few turns like it was nothing, eventually making it to third place by the time he reached the s-turn. Unlike with his Mustang (or the infernal kart), Sam could easily maneuver the turn going roughly forty miles per hour. It wasn't good enough, however, as he failed to gain a position; the same went for the final turns, but he still had one more lap to take the lead, so he retained his cool.

This lap, Sam changed his strategy to keep as much speed as possible; as he exited the first few turns once more, he gained another position, this time to second place, but now with the s-turn in sight, he grew nervous. For this time, he only slowed to fifty, but as he challenged the curve, he felt the car begin to slide; while any normal person would freak out at this point, Sam simply smiled and attempted a drift through the curve. At first it seemed like he was swerving out of control, but after exiting the first half, he took the second with relative ease and, in turn, overtook the first place car. Then, he brought his speed back up to seventy, but what he didn't take into account was that the car behind him was gaining on him little by little, which he countered by lining himself up with him; while that increased the likelihood of drafting, Sam's reflexes were second to none, and successfully finished the race in first.

After returning to the pits, he was greeted once more by Paul, this time with a sincere smile.

"Not bad, champ," he congratulated. "Your reflexes behind the wheel are better than I imagined."

"That tends to happen when I'm not behind the wheel of a death trap," Sam replied.

"I guess so," Paul joked. "Well then, you about ready to…"

"You've got some skill there, buddy," a new voice added. Sam looked to where the voice came from, and took note of this individual's appearance: he was fairly tall (maybe a few inches taller than himself), had shoulder length, curly brown hair, and looked unusually handsome to Sam.

"Oh, hello there," Sam acknowledged. "I'm Sam Black. Who might you be?"

"Me?" the man responded. "I'm Martin Freund."

"Freund? That's a funny name."

"I get that a lot. It is Croatian, after all."

"So you're from Croatia?"

"Indeed. And I'm guessing you're American?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so. What brings you all the way out here?"

"I'm a part of the Gran Turismo League."

"Gran…Turismo? I've never heard of it."

"It's fairly new. What brings YOU out here?"

Martin just chuckled. "Alright, I guess I had that one coming. I tend to show up at these beginner races to stake out who will go one to rise among the ranks. Guess I'm glad I stayed."

"So, are you a racing spectator?"

"Hardly. I'm a racer myself."

"Oh? What kind."

"Sort of like you, I guess. I'm a strategic racer, and I have a nasty habit of taking high risks. And I must admit that that drifting you pulled off near the end both scared and fascinated me. I guess it reminds me of, well, me."

"Really? Then, do you think we could become friends?"

"Sure. If you can deal with boring lectures about Wankel engines."

"Uhh, say what now?" Sam was genuinely floored. "What the heck are Wankel engines?"

Martin let out a hardy laugh. "Oh, relax. I was just joking."

"Oh."

"In all honesty, I do feel we could be friends."

"Sam?" Paul asked. Sam faced him once more. "We need to get going if we want to get to the next track early."

"Oh." Sam replied sulkily before facing Martin once more. "I guess that's my cue."

"Hey, no worries," Martin replied. "I've got to get going myself. I've actually got a WRC championship I need to get to."

"The WRC? So you're a rally racer?"

"And a great one at that."

"That's nice. Well, I guess we'll see each other later?" Sam held out his hand. Martin promptly shook it.

"I'm sure our paths will cross again. Until then," Martin let go of Sam's hand, then turned to leave. Sam turned back to Paul and also began to head for an exit.

"That guy sure was interesting," Sam told Paul.

"I don't recognize him," Paul started, "but after all, I'm just a limo driver."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Nope. Let's just head out."

"Right. The sooner the better."

* * *

><p><strong>Hello, once again. Sorry if I don't update this fanfic all that frequently, but in between my busy life here and a minor case of writers block, it can be a little tough on me. But this time, I'm serious about updating this one as much as I can. And this time, I have to thank <strong>**ThrashMetalMartin**** for not only leaving some kind reviews, but for suggesting his own OC, Martin Freund, whom I introduced at the end of this chapter's race; I liked the character's background, attitude, and appearance enough that I felt obligated to add him in. It did throw me by surprise, but I actually had fun writing dialogue between him and Sam based on what I gathered from Thrash.**

**Anyways, this isn't the last we hear of him, and this fanfic is far from over, so fear not about the future. Anyways, I've got to get going, enjoying my spring break and all, so thanks for reading, and I hope you carry on with the next chapter and beyond.**

**Read on!**

**-rjm324**


	7. Sunday Cup, Race 2

"Wow, that was quick," Sam acknowledged as he spotted the next track in the distance: the Autumn Ring.

"Not surprising," Paul replied. "It was only an hour drive away."

"So how fun is this track going to be?"

"Well, considering it's the mini version, we'll see."

"Uh, the mini version?"

"The Autumn Ring has two layouts: the long version, and the mini version."

"Huh."

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on the race at hand."

"If you say so."

GT GT GT GT GT

Just like before, Sam was prepared for anything in the race as he and the rest crossed the start line for the first time, and although not as simple as the High Speed Ring, this track's layout was fairly straightforward; at least in Sam's eyes, it reminded him of a boot.

However, after taking on the first, 270 degree, turn, he was spun out in the dirt, leaving the other racers to continue his Mini One in the dust. Although agitated, he returned to the track and, going the maximum 70-ish miles per hour, cruised through the next four turns with no problem, which would've been more if he hadn't bashed into the back of the eleventh place car.

"Oh, damn it!" he shouted as he tried swaying back into control, which he miraculously did with his hood popped and the car he crashed into in the dirt. Without hesitation, he just continued on without falter, passing car after car once more until he found himself in eighth place by the time he passed the start line once more. At the same turn he span out a mere lap before, he actually made it out without a problem.

However, because he had to take this turn slower than last time, he remained in eighth place, leaving him to make a mad dash to the front before the lap finishes. Turn after turn, Sam continued to pass up his opponents, even going so far as to take some nasty shortcuts through grass, which brought him back to the starting line once more. With one more lap to go, he decided once more to take the first turn much faster than he should, feeling short on options. To his (and everyone else's) surprise, he pulled out of the turn with no problem, putting him that much closer to the third place car.

But despite his gamble, he came to see that his competition simply had faster cars than him; however, he still felt he could pass them up at one crucial point in the track; the final five turns. See, near the end of the track, there is a collection of four turns that do a make a semi oval, leaving a patch of grass in the middle of it; Sam's thinking is that if he cuts through there at the right moment, he might be able to take first place easily. So when this collection of turns came up, Sam went full speed ahead on the grass, but the end result was still interesting.

Instead of going through seamlessly, Sam lost a precious speed to the grass, and by the time he exited, he was scraping up against the first place car, leaving them locked in a battle for first; since the first place car had speed, Sam kept his vehicle up against this car; while this should've failed, he succeeded in taking the lead, but this victory was short lived as the third pace car bolted from behind, taking first, leaving Sam to finish in second.

GT GT GT GT GT

"YOU LITTLE PUNK!" This was the first thing Sam heard as he exited his car in the pits, and as was expected, it was the driver he was locked in physical battle with on the last lap.

"What did you just call me?" Sam snapped back.

"You heard me!" the man replied angrily. "That was some nasty moves you pilled out there. Do you know how much money that's going to take to buff out?"

"Oh, boo-hoo, I feel so terrible," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Why you," the man started as he neared Sam; he was unable to finish, however, as his own pit crew pulled him back, sparing Sam from whatever he was planning.

"Sam!" Paul shouted, whom Sam proceeded to face. "You don't need to be stirring up trouble!"

"I'm not," Sam replied.

"Really?" Paul replied sarcastically. "It's bad enough we've gotta get the car fixed. The last thing we need is to be paying a hospital bill on top of that."

Sam just scoffed. "Do we really need to fix this piece of garbage? It's not like I'm going to drive it again anyways."

"Of course we do." Paul replied. "That being said, let's just get going before you do something you'll end up regretting."

Sam nodded. "Alright." After everything settled down, the two exited the track. Shortly afterwards, the two returned to the limo and drove away. Although the two made a little small talk during the trip, little was left to be said as they made their way back to Yamauchi's office to report on that day's races.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello once again, loyal audience. And what's this? Two Gran Turismo chapters uploaded near the same time? It's unspeakable! All joking aside, I had to get this one up enevitably close to the other one, lest I want to be criticized for leaving a two parter unresolved on the off chance I don't return for an undisclosed amount of time.<strong>

**That being said, I hope you guys don't criticize these past two chapters too much, as the very beginning of the games are always slow and, since the cars raced are usually very slow cars, I felt like I had little fun writing the driving scenes; whether that's me being bad at describing action or me being lazy at this point, I don't know. Just know that I am trying, and it will get better with time, but until then, remember that I always have another fanfic waiting to be read if you get bored.**

**Read on!**

**-rjm324**


	8. Back in the Slow Lane

As Sam and Paul entered the office, they were surprised to be greeted by Yamauchi himself at the front office.

"Oh, hey sir," Paul greeted.

"Yeah, hey," Sam added.

"Hello gentlemen," Yamauchi replied. "How was today?"

"A first place and a second place finish," Paul replied.

"Any incidents?" Yamauchi asked.

"S-Sort of," Sam replied.

"How so?"

"W-Well…"

"He caused tensions to rise. And that's besides the fact he was wrecking the car."

"…" Yamauchi stayed silent, and it was obvious he was pondering this situation in his head.

"I-Is something wrong?" Sam asked. Yamauchi stayed silent for a few moments longer, leaving Sam to ponder his thoughts as well. He knew he had done something wrong, and he wasn't used to the kind of criticism he had received. Even his mom's gripes were nothing compared to this.

Finally, Yamauchi looked up. "Sam, could you come with me? In private?"

"Uh, sure," Sam replied wearily. Yamauchi then turned to Paul.

"Paul, you may go," he continued. "I'll let you know when I need you."

"Yes sir," Paul replied, and he turned back to the door to head back to his limo.

"This way," Yamauchi said as he turned to the left hallway and proceeded to walk towards it; despite his anxiety, Sam obliged and proceeded to follow Yamauchi down the hall. He knew that Yamauchi was unhappy, but he didn't know in how much trouble he'd be in.

"So," Yamauchi began, "what exactly happened?"

"Uhh," Sam droned. He wasn't comfortable talking to such an imposing figure about something like an argument.

"Sam?" He asked.

"Well… you see, I was getting a little desperate f-for first that I tried using shortcuts and ramming into other drivers to accomplish that." Yamauchi just continued walking silently.

"T-There, I said it! So now what?" Again, Yamauchi stayed silent.

"Look, man. I don't know what else to say. I let a competitive drive get in the way and I'm sorry about that. And not only that, I was getting pretty aggravated with the car a little, so I honestly started to give a care less. And my mom also says that I tend to have trouble with anger management, but I just don't see it. I swear!" Expecting an actual answer, Sam was still shocked to see that Yamauchi was still keeping silent.

"Why are you still so calm?" Sam shouted.

"Because I'm not mad," Yamauchi finally replied.

"I… you what?" Sam asked.

"You heard me. I said I'm not mad."

"I'm really confused."

"Your participation in the Sunday cup was another test."

"Say what? I thought I already passed your tests!"

"Not at all. I mean, everyone still has room for growth in their talents."

"Really? Because I confused it for you acting like a no good, childish son of a-"

"Okay, I get it. But even so, I wanted to see your tolerance for low speeds."

"Then didn't I fail for getting a second place finish?"

"Not at all. In fact, I was aware of the fact that you might not perform as good as you might've normally, so you exceeded my wildest expectations."

"Does that mean you'll stop those stinking tests?"

"Hardly, but I'll go ahead and stop humoring my amusements. Now about the prize money you earned…"

GT

"Welcome back," Paul greeted Sam as he entered the passenger seat of the limo. "So how did it go?"

"Well, apparently he was still just testing me. Why didn't you warn me?!"

"I thought it was obvious that he was happy-go-lucky," Paul added, "so I didn't say anything."

"So he could've given me a faster car this whole time, but he just did it for amusement?"

"Hey, even I was surprised by the car he decided to give you."

"So does that mean you were actually mad? And was that other driver mad as well?"

"I wasn't mad, but that driver was. That's part of Yamauchi's sense of humor."

"Well then, this whole day was just awkward all around."

"No kidding."

"But hey, at least I got some prize money for the races."

"I'm guessing around 7,500 yen?"

"Oh right. Still not used to that. But how did you know that off the top of your head?"

"I've raced the Cup a few times before, so that's why I remember."

"That's not much when you think about it."

"It is a beginner event, after all. Don't worry, though. It does get better."

"So, where to?"

"A hotel. The next event is the Amateur Cup, but there's several reasons we're not getting ready for it now."

"Like?"

"Well for one, it doesn't start until next week."

"And what's the next reason?"

"The first track is Brands Hatch."

"But that means…"

"Yep. We're headed to England next." The conversation grew quiet as Paul kept his steady pace on the road.

GT

"Hello?" Sam's mom asked as the Skype call started.

"Hey mom," Sam responded.

"Sam! Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"

"What? No, no. I just wanted to talk to you after this long day."

"Oh? Did you participate in some races?"

"Yes. And I think I did very well, if I do say so myself."

"That's great to hear. So are you having fun?"

"I guess. It does get a little lonely sometimes."

"You'll get through it. You're strong like that."

"Yeah. And hey, I made friends with a Croatian driver today. His name is Martin."

"That's great! I just knew that things would work out for the best."

"The real question I want to ask is how YOU are doing."

"Well you know, it gets a little lonely around the house, but I'm hanging in there."

"Have you been telling your friends about me?"

"No. But I probably should. It's not every day someone's small town boy hits it big!"

"Alright, you do that. What time is it over there?"

"Like 9:30. Why?"

"Because it's around 10:30 here. I was fixing to go to bed, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was okay."

"That's sweet. Well, just get to bed. I'm sure you have a busy day tomorrow."

"Not really, but I do need some sleep."

"Well, have a good night, and I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Bye." Sam then hit the end call button, and his mom's face disappeared from his laptop screen. He knew it was breaking his mom's heart to be so far away, but he was still committed to this, so he just shrugged the thought off and flopped on the bed to a good night's sleep.

GT

"Well this is a surprise," Yamauchi said after hearing Sam's request. "You actually want to ride in that go-kart you so detest?"

"Yes." Sam replied. "But don't mistake it for changing my mind on using it. I'm doing it solely for getting out my anger."

"So stress relief then?"

"Yes. Apparently I have a lot of anger I need to keep in check."

"Well, you have a point. And I'm guessing that it's either that or slugging me in the gut."

"Pretty much."

"Alright. Let Paul know and he'll take you to my practice course."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>"Gah!" Sam shouted as he smashed into the barrier. "That freaking hurt!"<p>

"_I see that,"_ Paul said over the radio. _"But why again are you subjecting yourself to this again?"_

"I need to let off any excess steam or else I'll end up in a situation similar to the last race."

"_And to keep Yamauchi from having fun?"_

"No, but that's a good thing to come out of it."

"_But don't get too relaxed. You may just lose your competitive spirit if you get too mello."_

"Understood. Hey, how come you're not my crew chief? Gah!" Sam didn't so much crash this time as he did spin out of control and smack the side of his kart with the barrier.

"_That looked like it hurt."_

"Not really. As to the answer to my question?"

"_I-I really don't have a legitimate excuse. I guess I don't see myself as that kind of person, you know?"_

"Really, well I was genuinely confused. I seem to be a little more level headed around you. You just have that… personality that juxtaposes Yamauchi's childishness.

"_Well, that's nice to hear from you."_

"Well, I suppose I'm done for today. Things got a little too heavy for my tastes."

"_Same here. Just pull back into the pits."_

"Got it."

* * *

><p>"… and that's what I propose," Sam finished saying to Yamauchi. Although Sam didn't expect to make much progress, he remained hopeful with all the nods Yamauchi made during his appeal.<p>

"I see," Yamauchi responded. "But I do have one question: what's wrong with your current crew chief?"

"He just seems like a boring choice. He only speaks up when I'm doing something wrong. Beyond that, the com channel just sounds like a bunch of static."

"So in his place, you want me to appoint one of my PERSONAL drivers as YOUR crew chief?"

"If I'm not being too vulgar about it."

"…" Yamauchi just sighed as he looked around the room, trying his best to avoid Sam's gaze.

"Make no mistake, I'm not asking you to reassign him. He can remain a driver during events in Japan. I just realized the other day that having him speak over the radio just, I don't know, calms me while I'm driving. It makes me feel, well, collected after I screw up. The other guy just doesn't do it for me."

Yamauchi sighed once more, then returned his gaze to Sam. "Well, what happens if I say no?"

"Then you can find a new racer," Sam uttered with confidence. He never felt more determined about a cause since he got that Mustang those some odd years ago.

Yamauchi just nodded. "Well then, I guess you have my answer. I'll allow it for the Amateur Cup, and if it works out, you've got yourself a new crew chief." He held out a hand, which Sam promptly shook.

"Thanks sir! You won't be disappointed!"

"Well then, I should leave you be. You need to get ready for your upcoming flight to England if you hope to even race at Brands Hatch."

"Will do. Thanks again."

"Yeah, yeah. Just leave my office before I change my mind." And with that, Sam exited the office, eager to tell the news to Paul.

* * *

><p><strong>Welp, here we are once more. If you're just joining me, then welcome! Obviously you found this fanfic enjoyable enough to get to this point, and I hope you decide to stick around. To those returning, I hope this chapter was enough to satisfy you for another waiting period until the next chapter.<strong>

**Obviously, this chapter focused less on racing, and more in the emotions of my characters, so I hope this one wasn't too sappy. Part of my style is the expression of various emotions and how characters react to other characters and various situations they happen to be thrown into. If you like that, then you'll definitely enjoy my other writing, and I suggest you follow/favorite me to be informed about all of my other works. If not, then just hang around and enjoy all this fanfic has to offer.**

**Oh, and another thanks to ThrashMetalMartin for his continued support; without him, this fanfic might as well be rotting away (not that I wouldn't write another chapter without his help). So thanks once more to everyone for reading. And for the transcendent readers out there, don't forget to check out my YouTube channel, where new content is added weekly.**

**Again thanks, and read on!**

**-rjm324**


	9. Amateur Cup, Race 1

Sam just looked outside the window while Paul did nothing but sleep, but the only thing worth seeing was the same old thing: clouds floating in the sky. Even though the two were on the plane for just a few hours, time seemed to be progressing at a snail's pace. It's times like these that Sam wished he had the patience to read a book, or even to take a nap; he just slept when he needed to, end of story.

_Hell, talking to that idiotic lady from my first flight would probably be better than this,_ Sam thought. _Wow, that's sad._ Sam could've tried waking Paul up, but he was too lazy to try, and he was too hardwired for the race ahead.

_How long until we get to Brands Hatch?_ Sam asked himself.

* * *

><p>"Geez, this feels so… different," Paul muttered as he and Sam were transported to Brands Hatch by taxi.<p>

"You'll manage," Sam reassured. "A little time away from the driver's seat won't kill you."

"You may be right," Paul added. "But it's just so unfamiliar to me. It's been years since I've been in a passenger seat of any kind."

"Sounds like someone's a little spoiled."

Paul smirked. "Look who's talking, 'Mr. I need to Bang Up a Crappy Car for the Win.'"

"Ouch. That hits me right to my core."

"That being said, are you gonna be able to perform up to snuff?"

"Do you remember who you're talking to?"

Paul sighed easily. "Yep, SO much like me in the day."

"How so?"

"Like I said before: the uncontrollable enthusiasm."

"So then what happened to it? Considering how much I enjoy racing, I find it hard to believe you'd just lose it in an instant." This time, the smile Paul wore melted back to that of casual indifference, and Sam could tell that he'd crossed some sort of line.

"O-Oh, sorry to get you down like that," Sam apologized. "I was just curious, that's all."

"N-No, it's fine. You're still young, so you're not at fault for asking."

"So… how far are we to the track?"

GT

"Hey there, hotshot!" A familiar voice shouted from somewhere in the pits. To Sam's surprise, he discovered that it was none other than Martin Freund, the driver Sam had met back at the High Speed Ring.

"Martin!" Sam acknowledged before high fiving him. "How's life been?"

"Been racing the rally circuits," Martin answered.

"That's right. Last I saw you, you had a WRC championship."

"Which I placed in first overall, thanks for asking."

"Damn! You're that good?"

Martin arched his eyebrow. "Does that surprise you?"

"Sort of. I mean, what are the odds of meeting a champion driver after one beginner race?"

"Uhh, good point."

"So what are you doing here?"

"The same as before: scoping out potential competition."

"Or is that an excuse to see me?"

"Whoa man, don't jump to those kinds of conclusions so fast."

"Relax, I was only **kidding!**"

"That's cute. Anyways, don't you have a race to prepare for?"

"Oh right!" Sam turned to race to his car. "Catch you afterwards?"

Martin waved. "I'll be waiting, hotshot!"

* * *

><p>"So how does this set up look?" Sam asked Paul over his radio as he followed his competition around for the obligatory warm-up lap.<p>

_"Well, it's the Indy Circuit layout,"_ Paul began,_ "so the track is rife with easy , 40-ish degree turns. And some of the curves can be taken at fairly high speeds, so it should be a cinch to win with that Mustang."_

"So basically take advantage of these high speed turns and straight-aways whenever possible?"

_"Basically. But most important is to not get cocky."_

"Cute Star Wars reference, crew chief!"

_"Just focus on the drive. The first lap is about to begin."_

"Just don't lose focus yourself."

_"Don't worry. I'll keep you in check good."_ And with that, the green flag was waved, so the race could finally begin. Since Sam was racing in his beloved Ford Mustang, the various Honda FITs and Eagle Talons stood little chance from the very beginning. Although this didn't stop Sam from accidentally blazing into the patch of sand to the left of the first curve, compliments of Sam misjudging the sharpness of the turn.

_"You're fine, Sam,"_ Paul reassured. _"Just brush it off and keep going."_

"Right!" Sam brightened right up, bringing his car back on the track as he full to tenth place. And it became evident that Sam was having no trouble, passing wimpy car after wimpy car all the way up until the second major turn: a set of two sharp turns making a u-shape.

_"Hit the brakes!"_ Paul recommended a good 200 feet from the turn. This time, Sam wasted no time in executing his chief's plan. And much to Sam's joy, he came out of the turn just passing up more of the admittedly underpowered cars he was facing, bringing him up to sixth place. After another brief straight-away came another sharp turn, but this time Sam was prepared by braking only slightly while pulling off one of his signature drifting moves, allowing him to move up yet another two positions.

_"Nice. Keep it up!"_

"You liked that, did ya? Well watch this!" The last set of turns was arranged in a spoon shape, which gave Sam even more breathing room for his talented drift ability.

_"Wait, what are you…"_ Paul didn't get to finish his question, as Sam was now producing a screeching noise from his 20-second drift technique that he used to breeze through the turns. No one, not even Sam himself, was sure about how well this was going to work out; but upon exiting the last turn, Sam not only was speeding to the start line without a problem, he was now in second place.

_"That was too damn risky!"_ Paul barked.

"I made it though, didn't I?" Sam asked.

Paul sighed heavily. _"Just warn me next time. Back to the race, kiddo."_

"Right!" The checkered flag was being waved as both he and the first place driver crossed the finish line to conclude lap one. Unlike last lap, Sam eased up to 60 mph on the first turn, leaving him right up on the second place car's bumper. He then followed it up with the same move from last lap, bringing him up side by side with the other car. Instantly, Sam was thinking of other ways of "bumping" the competition out of his way.

_"Don't even think about it," _Paul ordered. _"I know it's tempting, but keep your cool."_

"Tch, boring," Sam replied.

_"Besides, you have the horsepower to take him."_

"And I also have this!"

_"Are you doing what I…" _Again, Sam cut Paul off by screeching across the pavement by tearing up the same proceeding turn from last time, taking first place by a hair. However, when taking the last "spoon curve" section of the track, Sam decided to just take it easy this time around, braking with ease and pulling ahead of the competition by about ten seconds, easily clenching the win.

* * *

><p>"For the last time," Paul started as Sam got out of his car, "give me some WARNING before you pull a stupid stunt like that!"<p>

"FYI," Sam began, "that 'stupid stunt' was what got me recognized back in my back alley town!"

Paul once again sighed, bringing his hand to his face. "But I will say I'll take tire replacements over banged up cars any day." Paul then brought his gave back to Sam, revealing a sincere smile. "You did a great job."

"I'll say," Martin added as he neared the two. "I called you a hotshot, but you just may be more than that."

Sam shook hands with Martin. "T-Thanks. I almost never take advantage of my drifting."

"Well, NOW I'm glad I stuck around. That was truly a sight to behold."

"Aw, I wasn't THAT impressive, was I?"

"I've been racing for years, but I haven't seen anyone pull off drifting like that in a long while."

"G-Gee, thanks."

"I mean it. I saw that talent back in Japan, but that was astounding."

"C'mon, you're flattering me."

"Although I do need to ask: why the Mustang?"

"Partly because I'm American, partly because of its speed."

"I got that, but why here?"

"Because it TECHNICALLY qualifies."

Martin smirked. "I like that. You did it because you can."

"Let me guess, reminds you of yourself?"

"Kind of. See…"

"Sam!" Paul shouted. "We gotta go. In case you didn't realize, our plane back to Japan isn't gonna wait forever!"

"Sounds like you need to head out now." Martin continued. "I need to head out myself. I'll catch you around."

"Yeah. See you."

"And maybe next time, we can finally talk about those Wankel engines."

"Ha ha, it was only funny the first time. Caio!" The two finally separated, leaving Sam and Paul to make it back to the unbearable taxi.

"Hey Paul." Sam stated.

"Yeah?" Paul asked.

"How was your new job?"

"You almost gave me a heart attack several times. What do you think?"

"So you had fun?" Sam answered. The look on Paul's face that came after was absolutely priceless for Sam.

* * *

><p><strong>And, part one of the Amateur Cup is now complete! Sorry for the slight delay, but I've had to study fortake AP exams and finals for the past week or two. And while I did write during that time, it was for fanfics that took little effort and a new idea I wanted to experiment with (which I did, in the form of Persona Fusion).**

**For now, just be happy I finally got around to this, and the next update shouldn't be too far away since my final exam to take is an AP Statistics exam. So after that, I should be in the clear until the fall. And while I'm here, I'd like to thank ThrashMetalMartin for his continued support, and to Henry Townsend for leaving a few reviews. I would've been stuck in a rut if it wasn't for these two.**

**So until next chapter, read on!**

**-rjm324**


	10. Amateur Cup, Race 2

"Wait up there, hotshot!" Martin shouted as Sam and Paul entered the airport terminal. Despite the craziness at the airport, Sam responded by turning his head to find Martin quickly approaching the duo.

"Martin," Sam replied. "What's up?"

"I just thought you'd like a few pieces of advice before you leave," Martin replied back.

"Like?"

"Well firstly, don't rely on your drifting skills for the win. You're good at it, but even the best can fail hard."

"You had to say it? I always thought it was common sense."

"You'd be surprised by the types of people who don't take it into account."

"What else?"

"Well, you may know this, but since your Mustang is oversteer, you need to take turns more carefully than you normally would."

"You think I wouldn't take that into account?"

"Just making sure."

"So did you come all the way down here to tell me all that?"

"Nope. I've got a plane I need to catch, but I thought I'd catch you before you head out."

"That's nice. I guess I'll see you around?"

"Of course. You're not gonna get rid of me that easily. After all, I'll be waiting for you to get to the point of facing me in races."

"Yeah. That'll be the day."

"Now get going. I wouldn't want you to be late because of me."

"Right!"

* * *

><p>After the long and boring plane back to Japan, Paul was once again driving Sam to the next race track: Grand Valley. It had two noticeable arrangements, but the one Sam would be racing on today was the East circuit, whose fast and technical turns which would surely test Sam's abilities.<p>

"So what's up with this track?" Sam asked Paul.

"It's not a difficult track," Paul began, "but with that Mustang, You'll have to be pretty precise with your turns."

"Are they that challenging?"

"With certain cars, no. But with your Mustang..."

Sam cut Paul off with a wave of his hand. "Gotcha. I'll be careful." Then, Sam looked out the limo's window. "So how long do we have until we reach the track?"

"Half an hour maybe?"

"Great."

"It's not all bad. You could talk to me."

"It seems like you've said all you want to, from your experience in racing to your current employment with Yamauchi."

"So I told you how we met?"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't think it was too important to ask about."

"Well, do you want to know?"

Sam nodded. "I guess. There's only so long that I can observe the Japanese countryside."

Paul laughed once more. "I see your point. Anyways, it was several years ago at a race at this exact same track. I had just finished a race in first place, and when I returned to the pits, he was waiting for me."

"So he was allowed to just walk up to the pits?"

"I was surprised too. Regardless, he walked up to me and he asked me if I wanted to join his previous racing league. But, I respectfully declined, and he just gave me his business card and left. Then one thing led to another, including my retirement from racing, and I called him to see if he needed someone like me for something, and he hired me as a private limo driver."

"So that experience is why you say you see a lot of you in me?"

Paul nodded. "Yep. In fact, when I was driving him back from the airport just after a trip to the States, he was bragging how he found a driver as skilled as I was back in the day. And now, I can totally see why."

"Except that I'm rough around the edges?"

"A little bit." The next few minutes went on in silence, leaving Sam to look out the limo's door with nothing else to say.

"How far are we now?" Sam pestered once more.

* * *

><p>Even going through the practice lap, Sam couldn't help but feel nervous on this track. Outside of two or three real straightaways, there really was an abundance of technical turns, many of which made him regret using him Mustang in the first place; however, once the first lap began, Sam confronted the challenge head on, beginning with breezing past a large cluster of competitors for the fourth place spot. Then came the first set of turns, the first of which Sam was able to get through without slowing down, but then when he brought his speed down to make it through a turn that would bring him around 180 degrees, he actually brought his speed down too low, allowing two cars from behind to pass him up, bringing him down to sixth place.<p>

_"Don't worry about it,"_ Paul reassured. _"It happens to anyone."_

"Thanks for the encouragement," Sam replied as he once more took fourth place back. As he approached another high speed turn, Sam decided to brake a little later on an upcoming sharp right turn; this time, instead of going too slow, he sped through a section of grass and back onto the course only a tiny bit closer to the third place car. Knowing he might not get away with another shortcut like that, Sam eased up to 40-50 miles per hour in the next set of turns, and once he exited, s-turn in sight, Sam had taken third place, but just barely as the car behind him stayed on his tail to take advantage of drafting.

Although Sam spaced out a little in the moment, he did know that he came out of the s-turn remaining in third place, and while in the middle of the final turn, Sam was even able to take second place, leaving him to cross the start line, about ten seconds behind the leader. The second and final lap didn't start any better than the last lap, since even though he misjudged the speed for the second and third turns, he kept second place while the first place car kept its steady pace; in fact until the s-turn came up, this remained the case until Sam's desperate nature took over in the form of speeding up close to his top speed and crashing into the leader's car's bumper intentionally.

Sam succeeded in bumping the first place car out of first, but it also forced Sam to use his emergency brake and narrowly avoiding a collision with the concrete wall on the right hand side; although he was able to bring himself back up to speed, the third and fourth place cars zoomed past Sam in the final stretch, leaving Sam to take third place instead.

Sam moaned. "I'm in trouble again, aren't I?"

* * *

><p>As Paul drove Sam to the airport, both remained silent, not wanting to discuss the race in any detail. While Paul remained focused on the road, Sam continued to look out the window, specifically at the countryside like before. But if he had a choice, Sam would've been tapping away at any random smartphone game, even if it had to be Flappy Bird.<p>

"So what's up with the silence?" Sam asked. "Surely it wasn't THAT bad, right?"

"You're missing the point," Paul replied. "You crashed into another racer on purpose, which bears the possibility that we MAY get fined."

"I know that!" Sam shouted.

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I was sure that I could take first place easily."

"Well, look where that brought you."

"What do you want me to say? I've said I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter how many times you say sorry! If the possibility of a fine is likely, the risk doesn't matter!"

"Again, what do you want me to say?"

"How about you admit that you screwed up first?"

Sam murmured.

"What was that?"

Sam sighed. "Y-You're right. I screwed up. And even though saying sorry won't help, I'll own up to it." Sam sighed again, this time with a hint of agitation. "There! That good?"

Paul chuckled. "Man, you really need to keep that anger in check."

* * *

><p><strong>That's right ladies and gentlemen, I've returned with a new Gran Turismo, and apologies to both the wait and if this chapter may not be as good as you may expect from me; in all honesty, I wasn't feeling the motivation this time around, so if it does come off as simplistic in nature, just bear with me for the chapters ahead.<strong>

**That being said, I want to have the time to write a chapter for another of my fanfics tonight, so quickly I want to thank ThrashMetalMartin and Henry Townsend for leaving another review each.**

**So that's it for now. Read on!**

**-rjm324**


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